Loyalties Lie
by Kirsti-Lee
Summary: Harry has never know real loyalty, real love, and he doesn't know that everyone on the 'light' side is planning on betraying him. Who will he turn to when he is no longer the golden boy? AU.
1. Chapter 1

Dead eyes peered over the storm swept grounds, dead eyes belonging to a short, messy haired boy. He wasn't really dead; well not yet anyway. His robes were torn and badly patched, pulled back to reveal slightly muscular arms. Pale skin clashed with his black robes, skin that was marred with pale scars, as well as streaks of strawberry red blood. A small silver dagger lay on the ground, forgotten for the moment, as tears dripped from his dead eyes. Such pain, such misery. This was the saviour of the wizarding world.

Dawn rose, veins of crimson, orange and gold spreading across the sky, and still the boy didn't move from his vigil. Birdsong broke across the grounds, trills and chirps combining with the spectacular views to provide onlookers with a feeling that something special would happen that day. But such a feeling was lost on Harry; his thoughts as usual, were dark, depressing and would generally make any other human being scream should such thoughts penetrate their minds. But Harry was used to it; during the day he was smiling, slightly dopey and obsessed with Quidditch and girls. Under the cover of night, he was depressed, suicidal, and obsessed with finding a way to cease his pain and suffering.

He knew his housemates would be looking for him, and so he had already prepared his excuse. Broomstick in hand, Harry leapt from the tower, swinging his legs over his Nimbus. Only last year he had made the Gryffindor house team, the youngest player to do so in over a century. Even his father, James potter, would have been proud of that achievement. Soaring as though he was having the time of his life, he spotted Ron and Hermione, far below him, clearly searching for him.

"Hey!" he shouted, waving and ignoring the lancing pains that raced through his body.

"Harry!" squealed Hermione, looking up. She held a few pieces of toast in her hands hopefully, knowing that Harry had picked at his food the previous day and determined to get him to eat more.

"Oh, Hermione, you shouldn't have!" Harry said, winking and taking them from her. "I was starving!" he took a large bite out of the buttery toast, much to Hermione's delight.

"Where were you mate? You weren't in your bed this morning, it hardly looked slept in!" Ron's freckles and red hair were shining brightly in the early morning sun, and like Hermione, he seemed to be slightly put out by the fact that Harry hadn't been seen that morning.

"Oh, I woke up early and couldn't resist a bit of exercise," Harry lied smoothly, holding up his broom.

"Brrr that chilly morning air sure wakes you up quick though," he said with a laugh.

Hermione smiled weakly, but Ron's mouth cracked into a grin.

"That's the go Harry, get an early start on the Slytherins, eh? They won't know what hit them. Hey, did you hear about the friendly match between Uruguay and Spain a few weeks back? Pitch conditions were perfect and their Beater, Spain's Letrexico pulled off one of the best defensive…"

Harry grinned, his eyes glazing over during Ron's tirade about Quidditch. He knew that if he smiled and nodded occasionally, as well as exclaiming "Oh cool!" at the end of every third sentence, his friends would never notice anything was wrong. That was just how they were; Hermione and Ron never noticed anything out of ordinary with their friend, and if he was a little quiet after each school holiday, well, being cooped up in a house with only his overweight cousin was bound to have an effect. They never invited him to stay at their houses over the summer, never thought of him unless he wasn't there. Truthfully, the only loyalty they felt towards Harry Potter was gained through the fact that he was something of a celebrity, and if they were thrown into the limelight for knowing and befriending the saviour of the wizarding world once in awhile, then they were happy.

Harry could remember the first time he had ever seen Ronald Weasley. He had been walking alongside his mother, seemingly nervous about his first train ride to Hogwarts. Harry had smiled nervously at the flaming redhead, patting down his fringe over his scar, but Ron had sneered and turned away. It had only been when Ron had discovered who Harry really was that Ron had started slyly befriending him. Never before in his life had he experienced friendship, Harry was naturally delighted. With Ron by his side, he had turned down Malfoy's offer of friendship, and gone on to be placed in Gryffindor, despite the Sorting Hat begging him to reconsider.

I can't force you to go into a house that you do not wish to be in, Potter, but for all our sakes, and for the sake of the wizarding world, I must ask you to reconsider!

The hat's words were not easily forgotten, and from the moment he sat with his Gryffindor housemates, Harry knew he had made a mistake. Dumbledore had smiled at him as he drained a pitcher of pumpkin juice, but there had been something in that grin that reminded Harry of a cat that had got the canary. People had jostled to sit beside him, only to either stare open mouthed at his scar or eagerly offer their friendship. He was their star, their beacon, and Harry realised that everything that Gryffindor stood for was a lie.

Hermione had been a different matter altogether. The girl was bossy, rude, and so intent in the discovery of knowledge that she had little time for anything other than books. She was book smart; too book smart, and soon realised that knowing Harry Potter would definitely give her yet another advantage over all the other students. As Dumbledore's golden boy, surely he would be privy to restricted magic that through him she too would soon learn? And so, when a troll found her in the girls' bathrooms on Halloween, and Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley rescued her, Hermione had milked it for all it was worth.

The three, all deceitful in different ways, walked into Transfiguration smiling and chatting enthusiastically. Minerva McGonagal surveyed them proudly, lips curling into a smirk. Ron and Hermione winked briefly, and sat down on either side of Harry, who was clearly oblivious to this exchange. When the boy had arrived at Hogwarts, Minerva had been of mixed feeling. He looked a lot like James, and he had Lily's eyes, but the physical appearance seemed to be the only thing they had in common. He was surprisingly Slytherin; he lied and schemed and worst of all, he talked to snakes! Not only that, Dumbledore had revealed that it hadn't been Potter who had defeated the Darklord, but Lily herself. All these years, Harry had been basking in the fame that killing Voldemort had given to him, and soon, he was to come to regret it.

Severus Snape too spent much of his time watching the Potter boy, but it was for a different reason completely. He had of course, witnessed the sorting of Harry in his first year, and noticed how long the hat seemed to argue with small boy. Later, when no one was looking, Severus had placed the hat upon his own head to discover what it had said to Harry.

Ah, Snape is it not? One of my easier decisions, Slytherin stamped all over you. I suppose to want to know my reasoning for placing Potter in Gryffindor, don't you? Well, he wouldn't let me put him anywhere else, and frankly, I couldn't argue with anymore without people like you and Dumbledore becoming suspicious. Clearly, I have gained your interest Snape, so I will tell you this. Potter is not in the right house; watch him, and you will see what I mean.

And so watch him, Severus did. On Harry's first night, he left his dormitory the moment his housemates were asleep. Ready to dock house points, Severus followed him, surprised to find himself in the astronomy tower. Harry had sat against a wall, sobs shaking his young shoulders. He had pulled off the heavy robe, revealing his thin arms. Unable to contain a gasp, Severus had seen the obvious bruising and blood that covered them. How could this be Harry Potter he was seeing? This was the son of sneering, boastful James Potter, and clever, brilliant Lily Evans? Shocked, and unsure what to do with this information, Severus had left, unnoticed by the boy. Ever since then, he had barely said a word to him, barely acknowledged he had a student called Harry Potter. Before his arrival, Severus had planned insults and detentions he would set the child, but not even he had the heart to carry them out.

And so the stage was set to knock Potter off his pedestal. Unknowingly, he had made friends and enemies, creating dissent and confusion, removed former grudges and broken the rules and traditions held at Hogwarts since its founding. Harry Potter's second year at Hogwarts was just beginning; it would prove to be his last.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'll see you guys in Potions ok? Just need to change my robes," He indicated his torn and much used robes. Deliberately, he had allowed this pair to get to this state- no one noticed the blood amongst the myriad of stains on the robes. There was no one in the dormitory when Harry got up there; First day classes were starting in a few minutes and no one wanted to be late. Still, Harry took no chances. Drawing the curtains firmly before undressing. He muttered an enlarging spell on the mirror by his bed, staring critically at his body. Strangely, he compared his body to a Jackson Pollack canvas, random swirls of colour, reds, purples and greens covered his once pale skin. Almost artistically scars were patterned over his bruises, dotted here and there with open gashes dripping pus and blood. Harry grinned strangely at himself, hand tracing one of the weeping cuts. His uncle had been particularly violent the night before he had returned to Hogwarts. With a sharp intake of breath, Harry plunged his fingertips deep into the skin, blood bursting from fresh cuts. Harry moaned at the release. Pain, pressure, turmoil, all disappeared under his questing fingers. With a startled realisation, Harry noticed the time. Like a burst bubble, his relief vanished, replaced with panic. He pulled fresh clothes on and left the dormitory as fast as his battered body would allow.

Harry fell into the room, causing every student to glance his way and snigger. Inwardly, Severus groaned. Couldn't Potter at least not make himself a spectacle every five minutes? For a boy hiding as much as he obviously was, he certainly managed to draw attention to himself. Now he, Severus, would be forced to dole out the appropriate punishment.

"Detention, Potter, and 20 points from Gryffindor," he said silkily, but without looking up. Since he had first seen Potter at the feast the night before, those pain filled eyes scared him more than he cared to admit. The lesson passed without incident, and Potter brought no more attention to himself.

Tonight, eight o'clock Potter," Severus said automatically as the students were packing up at the end of the lesson. The Slytherins looked triumphant, the Gryffindors righteously angry. Typical. Potter however, nodded absently, and when Weasley whispered something in his ear, changed his look to match the rest of his house.

Truth be told, Severus was desperately worried for the boy. When he approached Dumbledore the night before with his concerns however, the old man just laughed and offered him lemon drops. Even when presented with Severus' theory about self mutilation, Dumbledore had just laughed again and said that as long as he didn't off himself before he defeated the Dark Lord his hobbies were his own business. Flabbergasted, Severus vowed never to approach him again, and wondered whether he was the only one who realised Dumbledore was insane. No one, not even Voldemort himself, would ignore a suicidal teenager. Of course, Voldemort would probably kill him himself, but that was a different matter. Dumbledore was deliberately ignoring the needs of a boy in his care, which was intolerable. Minerva had been no help, saying the Potter boy was off limits and had to stay that way until the Dark Lord resurfaced. Astounded by the apparent lack of sympathy, he planned to confront Potter himself. Except he had kept putting it off, and putting it off, until Potter had gone away for the school holidays and was no longer in his face every five minutes. Then Potter had returned and appeared even worse than the year before. Now was the time for action, if he only dared take it.

"He was bang out of order, mate. I mean, you were only a few minutes late, Malfoy was late last week and he didn't-" Ron was rabbiting on beside him, but Harry was oblivious. He had to concentrate on his glamour shields holding, and this drained his magic greatly. When he realised the ministry tracked magic through wands and the strength of the magic, Harry had found the perfect way to hide his obsession. Effective, but it came at a high price. His wounds healed slowly, even if he didn't make them worse, but he preferred it that way. He could scar himself forever if he wanted; to make that scar on his forehead seemed lessened. But no matter what he did, it was always the first thing people looked at, talked about. Desperately, he wanted to be left alone, but just as desperately, he wanted someone to hear his screams. He sighed softly, so that neither of his friends walking beside him noticed. Ron was arguing with Hermione, and neither noticed he was there until they reached Transfiguration. It was just the way he liked it.

Harry managed quite a large dinner. The toll on his magic was beginning to show, and he could feel his control slipping. He needed something to fuel his body, give it the sustenance it required. Ron seemed to take this in stride, joking around a chicken leg. Hermione too seemed pleased, as if she were directly responsible for all his actions as she believed. They were just so deluded. Harry sometimes wondered if they knew he knew of their deception; nobody could be THAT stupid right? But it appeared Ron actually was, and Hermione so convinced of her own abilities she was lost in her own world. There was no one else in his house he could be friends with, no one who seemed brutally honest and direct. Well, Neville was, if only he could manage to do anything without injuring himself or others. Harry sighed. It was almost time for detention, and he had no idea how he was going to hold his shields up. Maybe he should skip the detention. That would probably be risking death, but what more could Snape do to him that hadn't already been done by others?

"I'm going to get ready for detention, there are some things I need to sort out first," Harry said loudly enough that he caught his friend's attention.

"Ok Harry, I can do your homework for you if you like, it won't take long…" Hermione was staring at him with those large chocolate eyes, begging for him to compliment her, thank her, so she could bask in the attention. Didn't she realise truly smart people kept their mouths shut until the right time, and were smart enough to interact with 'stupid' people on a level they understood?

"Sure Hermione. Do what you want," Harry said flatly, standing up.

"Bye Harry!" Ron called loudly, looking around to see who noticed. "Yeah, Bye!" Hermione was scowling at Ron, for daring to take attention away from her. Some friends.

He was early, and he knew it. Whatever Snape had in store for him, whether it was disembowelling horned toads, he could handle it. When he knocked, he was immediately bid to enter.

"I see you can tell time Potter," Professor Snape said absently. He was staring down at a pile of parchment, scowling.

"Yes sir," Harry said, blushing and staring at his feet.

"Well? Why were you late earlier?" Severus asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"I'm sorry," Harry said automatically. He did not sound sincere; there was absolutely nothing in his voice.

"Potter," Severus had stood and pulled his wand out. "I know you're hurting yourself, and I want to know why. Neither of us is leaving this room until I know,"

At these words, Harry's face went slack with terror and his shields dropped completely in his panic. The sight that met Severus' eyes was one he never forgot.


	3. Chapter 3

In a flash the reality was gone, replaced with a seemingly innocent boy.

"I don't know what you mean, Sir," Harry said with a shrug.

"I know what I saw, Potter. Do you take me for a fool?" Severus replied silkily. His hands itched to reverse Harry's glamour once more, but if he did that, he knew the boy would lose all trust of him. That would be a final resort, used only if Harry would not admit it for himself.

"No Sir," Harry's eyes flashed angrily behind his glasses, but he offered no new information. His pose was rigid, but his hands shook slightly. Severus was an expert at reading people; there was more to Legilimancy than the mere reading of one's mind. Every nuance of Harry's behavior had been observed over the past year, and he knew when the boy was lying.

"Have you ever used the charm 'Finite Incantatum', Potter?" Severus said abruptly.

"No Sir," Harry repeated, gritting his teeth. He could feel a drop of blood running down his spine. It was oddly distracting.

"It negates the use of another wizard's magic. With it, I can cancel any spell or charm you are using," Severus explained without emotion.

"I'm not using any spell or charm Sir," Harry insisted. His insides swirled with panic. He should have skipped the detention; he knew that now. If he had known where it would lead, he would have run for the hills.

"Do you trust me Potter?" Severus growled, again strangely changing the subject.

"No Sir," Harry winced, waiting for recrimination to echo around the dungeon.

"And your Gryffindor friends, do you trust them?" Severus asked.

"No!" the words left his mouth before he realized, and he scowled at his own honesty.

Severus seemed unfazed however. His dark eyes, so like tunnels bore into the young boy's eyes, seeming to read his thoughts and heart.

"And Dumbledore, do you trust him, hmm?" Severus said softly, as he clasped his hands together and looked at him expectantly.

"No," Harry whispered, looking at the ground.

"Then, Mr. Potter, we finally have an understanding," Severus picked up his quill and started vigorously marking a sheet of parchment in front of him.

"Sir?" Harry finally said after minutes passed in silence.

"Why aren't you scrubbing cauldrons, Potter?" Severus said, without looking up.

"Yes Sir," Harry lost himself in the repetitiveness of the task, and he could ignore his pain. After what felt like only a few short minutes he heard Professor Snape stand.

"Finished Potter? No? Well I think another detention is in order. Tomorrow night, same time. Oh, and there are some potions over on the last table before you leave. They are for pain relief and wound healing," Severus stood and swept from the room before Harry could reply, leaving him bewildered.

He glanced around scrumptiously, before grabbing the potions and hiding them in his robes. Snape sure was acting strangely.

"How'd it go mate?" Ron looked up as he entered the portrait hole. He was smiling, but the smile did not reach his eyes

"Urgh! Scrubbing cauldrons without magic! Not my idea of a good first day back," Harry grinned foolishly.

Hermione scowled. "It's not very funny Harry. You really need to follow the rules more. You were late after all, to one of Snape's classes," he said indignantly.

"Oh leave him alone Hermione. No one actually wants to go to that old bat's classes voluntarily anyway. So what if Harry was late one time?" whether he was genuine in his hatred of Snape or just trying to win brownie points with him, Harry did not wait to find out.

"I'm going to bed, since I got up so early this morning," he said cheerfully.

"I did your homework for you, it's on your trunk!" Hermione called after him, again hoping for praise.

Harry pretended he hadn't heard and kept walking, each stair he climbed a miracle in itself.

When he got into the dormitory, some of the others boys were already in it. He said goodnight and pulled the curtains around his bed. Silently he contemplated the two vials of potion he had taken from Professor Snape. He did not want to be healed, of that he was sure. At least, he still wanted to feel pain. He drank about a quarter of each, until he knew he could function for a few days at least. He hid the remainder before pulling his blankets over his aching body. He was too tired to even explore why Professor Snape had helped him, or why he hadn't asked more questions.

Severus held a glass almost lazily in one hand, its contents spilling as he absent-mindedly stared into space. All his thoughts centered on one Harry Potter. Tonight had gone well, at least in the sense that the boy was not totally clueless. He trusted no one; that was more than Severus could have hoped for. He had taken the potions; at least, they were gone when Severus checked a few minutes later. Whether he took them or not was up to Harry himself. Gaining the boy's trust himself would be another matter entirely; it was possible Harry was so full of self-loathing and mistrust that it no longer mattered to Harry who used him or not. Severus ardently hoped this was not the case. If so, he had failed.

He dreamed of her that night, as he had not dreamed in years. Her rich laughter and the smell of her perfume clung to his senses as he awoke, uncommon tears trickling down his face even as he slumbered. Furious at himself, he dabbed at them with his blanket, but her memory was not so easily erased. Lily Evans had been a shining beacon in life; her death had changed none of that for Severus. His bare feet found the floor beside his bed, unwelcome chill greeting them as they touched. He had to face the day, and he had to help the one with her eyes. Lily's eyes.

If Harry dreamed, he did not know it. His eyes slid open before dawn, more out of habit than anything else. His bare feet padded on the slate comfortably; he had experienced too many things in his short life to make complaint of such a minor thing. He entered the shower cubicles, ensuring he was alone. Locking the door behind him, he let his glamour fall along with his clothes. Here he was free to be himself, good and bad. He let the hot water fall on his now partially healed body before he remembered the events of the day previous. Severus' behavior was unexplainable. Harry prided himself on knowing the reasons people lied to him, the explanations for each and every thing they did. This was a curve ball; the sooner Harry found out what Professor Snape wanted and could manipulate whatever that was in his own favor, the better.

A/N-A very long time between updates, I know. I wanted to concentrate on "Depths of Darkness" my main story. At least, it was the one everyone seemed to like most ^^. So, if you like a manipulative!Dumbledore, and a caring!Severus, I'd recommend reading that one. Reviews are an incredible blessing- it's so exciting to see what you guys think! Any recommendations about where you'd like to see this story go are appreciated. Look out for an update soon, and don't forget to review regardless of what you thought of this story! ;-)


	4. Chapter 4

Harry was used to people watching him, but that morning the stares seemed particularly brutal. He tried to catch Snape in the act, but every time he raised his head, he had already looked away. Ron had chosen that morning to have a heated discussion with Dean Thomas, a muggleborn boy in Gryffindor, about the merits of Quidditch and Football. For once, both Ron and Hermione did not surround him. Ginny Weasley sat at his left, shooting him furtive glances. He smiled at her automatically, and was surprised by her response. She looked as if all her Christmases had come at once. Taking a chance, he spoke.

"So what do you think of Hogwarts, Ginny? Is it all you imagined?" he remembered the year before, when she had begged to join her brother on the Hogwarts express. Her eyes grew wide at his question, and she chocked on her pumpkin juice, but she finally answered.

"Oh it's fantastic! I hoped to be in Gryffindor of course, and the castle is beautiful. There's just so much to learn is all," she looked forlornly at the wand in front of her, and Harry followed her gaze.

"It was my Grandmother's wand. Everything is passed on in my family," she explained softly.

"I think that's excellent," Harry said warmly, and with some sincerity. The cloak he had inherited from his father was one of his prized possessions after all.

Ginny's blush went right to the roots of her hair.

"I…I had better go. I don't know my way around yet, and I don't want to be late," As she stood, she clutched an old book to her chest. "Bye Harry,"

He nodded absently as she left, feeling the hairs rise on the back of his neck once more. He jerked his head up, certain Professor Snape would be watching, but his seat was empty. Dumbledore however, seemed to find him incredibly interesting, but Harry scowled at him and looked away. In some ways, it was better to have Snape watching. He knew what Dumbledore wanted, and he would be damned if he gave in to the old man.

"Miss Weasley, what are you concealing beneath your desk?" Snape's harsh voice rose above the sounds of idle potion making easily.

"My…my diary Sir," the youngest Weasley's face flamed red, matching her vivid hair.

"Leave it on my desk and get back to your potion," Severus snarled, but even to him, his voice sounded weak.

As she scurried to obey, Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose with irritation. First year classes were always hard, but when Gryffindors and Slytherins mixed-well the consequences were not worth thinking about. Ginny Weasley showed some promise in the area of potions brewing, but her work was erratic and her behavior strange at times. The other Gryffindors scowled at him as he swept around the dungeon praising Slytherins and abusing them, but Ginny just worked on her potion, eyes straying to his desk occasionally.

As the bell rang for next class and the usual stampede began, she approached him.

"Sir, I'm very sorry about earlier…I just…" she started.

"Just take it and go. Don't let it happen again, Miss Weasley," Severus said absent-mindedly. As Ginny gaped at him he swept from the room, mind intent on one thing only. Preparing for his second year class.

Harry steadfastly ignored him again. Severus waited until it was obvious Neville was in difficulties over his potions. The cauldron was bubbling over; occasionally sending green sparks into the air.

"Potter! After last years' experience you should know Longbottom needs constant surveillance. Ten points from Gryffindor and detention for trying to look better through Longbottom's disgrace!" he barked, causing the class to jump.

Harry glared at him, but made no retort. A hiss of anger ran through the Gryffindor mob. Neville looked scared, no doubt wondering if Harry would be angry at his incompetence. Both Ron and Hermione were showing their disapproval markedly, but Harry ignored the interruption and continued with his potion.

"I'm sorry, Harry. D'you…d'you want me to explain to Professor Snape that it was my own fault?" Neville whispered as soon as Snape's back was turned.

Of all the students who had the privilege of being in Professor Snape's class, Neville was the most afraid. He was terrified of the man, and Harry knew what it would cost him to speak up.

"No, it's fine. It's only a detention. After all, what can the old bat do?" he smiled at the nervous boy, who nodded quickly.

What could he do indeed? As Harry found himself once more outside the Potions room, he began to have his doubts. Professor Snape was acting unusual, even for him. Over the past year, he had been almost indifferent towards Harry and the rest of his housemates, Neville excluded. His hatred of Gryffindor house was legendary, and he certainly favored his Slytherins, but Harry could see more than that. Other teachers unfairly swayed the other way; A Slytherin student could answer a question just as well as a student from another house, but was less likely to be rewarded for it. If anything went wrong, a Slytherin was to blame. Snape was the only teacher who favored them, or even trusted them. Harry sighed, pushing his fringe down unconsciously. He reached up and knocked on the door with a pale fist.

"Enter," Severus said right on cue.

Harry sighed again, and pushed the creaking door open. Severus was watching him expectantly, hands curled together on the desk in front of him.

"Sit there," Snape said pointing at the front desk. As Harry complied, Severus went to the door and began muttering and gesticulating his wand. Harry heard only one of the spells "Muffliato" and wondered what it did. After a few seconds passed in silence, the Professor finally spoke.

"Have you ever wondered why I keep few portraits in the dungeons, Potter?" he said out of the blue.

Harry shook his head; he honestly had not noticed.

"The Headmaster is particularly prudent when it comes to his staff. There isn't a single staff member at Hogwarts who doesn't owe Albus something, or who isn't hiding some terrible, shameful secret. With such rigorous screening processes, it leaves one to wonder how people such as Professors Quirrell and Lockhart were ever employed, hmm?"

He let the connotations of his words sink in before continuing.

"I attended Hogwarts myself, you know. I was in Slytherin. Albus holds a record of every misdemeanor I have ever committed under these hallowed ceilings. But it is not that he holds over me. It is something far more terrible," he finally looked up and met eyes with the boy, almost flinching as he did so. It would cost him so much to admit this to him, of all people, but he had to win the boy's trust somehow.

"I was in love with Lily Potter. Or Lily Evans, as she went by when she was at school," he said flatly, as if trying to distance himself from the emotion he still felt when he heard her name.

"What?" Harry cried, standing. "Why would you say something like that?"

His green eyes were filled with fury; an emotion rarely seen in the eyes of their predecessor.

"I met Lily before I had even received my Hogwarts acceptance letter. She was in the park, performing magic, and I knew her for what she was the moment I saw her. I was a skinny, greasy looking street kid in strange clothes, but she befriended me. She didn't ask questions when it came to her friends. Even when we were sorted, and she became a Gryffindor and I a Slytherin, it didn't change things in her eyes. Dumbledore knows how I felt, and when your parents were killed, he made me swear to protect you, whatever the costs. I have failed,"

The boy seemed to ignore the last; instead digesting and analyzing the strange story he had just heard.

"I don't understand," he said finally. "How can Dumbledore hold this over you? What did it matter if you were in love with my mother?"

Harry said the last sentence with a look of disgust, and Severus tried his best to ignore it and continue on as if he had not seen it.

"Voldemort was singularly a very powerful wizard, but his power lay in not only his magic, but in the way he influenced people. He had spies in the Ministry, followers and well-wishers the world over. His select group of followers were called "Deatheaters". I was a Deatheater. He tried to persuade many of the older wizarding families to join him, but there was resistance. Dumbledore had his own group, the Order of the Phoenix, and your parents were members. One night, while I was spying on Dumbledore, I overheard something. A prophecy. It stated that a child was to be born who would have the power to defeat the Darklord. When I relayed the information, he decided that child was you," Severus explained softly.

He knew the boy was on the verge of running, but he had already taken precautions against it. The door was securely warded, not something an 'Alohamora' would open. Harry fidgeted, glassy green eyes trained on the desk.

"Voldemort came after me…because you told him to?" Harry clenched his fist fiercely. "Everything that has ever happened to me is your fault. You're the reason my parents are dead!" the boy looked like he was about to jump across the table and murder him. Severus would not blame him if he did.

"When I found out he was going after your parents, I panicked. Your father and I-" Severus scowled at the thought of James. "We were not friends. We had much the same relationship as yourself and Draco Malfoy. Regardless, I had to save Lily. I went to Dumbledore and confessed all, and he placed your parents in hiding. I turned spy for Dumbledore; I had no choice. Without his protection I would have been sent to Azkaban prison. I was young and foolish when I joined the Darklord, and I have paid for it ever since,"

The Boy-Who-Trusted-No-One looked up at him in disbelief.

"Alright. Say I believe all of this. Why are you telling me? Why now, and not last year? And if you loved my mum so much, why do you hate me?" Harry sat back down, allowing his face to fall back into its usual blank mask.

"I am telling you this because I need to trust me. As I said, I was a spy for Dumbledore, and I need to keep my cover intact should the Darklord rise again. My cover would be blown if I had fawned over the Boy-Who-Lived, like the rest of the school," he said evenly.

There was silence. Either Harry did not believe him, or he was still trying to find some holes in his story.

"If it wasn't your fault, and my parents went into hiding, how did You-Know-Who get them then?" his voice was drained of anger, and he just sounded like a lost child who'd just found out Santa Claus was not real.

"One of their closest friends betrayed their location to the Darklord. When you defeated him, Black went insane. He went on a killing rampage, and now resides in the prison I mentioned earlier, Azkaban,"

"I need to think," Harry said finally. "I want you to unlock the door,"

Severus nodded. "I trust you realize that all of this information was meant to be kept a secret from you, at least for a few years. You cannot discuss it with anyone, or show that you have any knowledge of it,"

"Of course," Harry said stiffly. He hesitated for a second. "May I…may I come back and ask you some questions? In a few days, I mean. You could just assign me detention again, or something,"

Severus nodded. "You catalogued Potions ingredients tonight by the way, should any of your nosy housemates ask,"

As Potter passed him, he stopped suddenly.

"Thank you, Professor, even if all of this turns out to be some huge joke or lie, it's been interesting,"

Severus merely nodded again, and closed his eyes. The boy had barely scratched the surface of the lies and deceit that surrounded his life. He hadn't asked about the prophecy, or how Lily had felt about him. In fact, he had taken it rather well, all things considered. He had laid the foundations of trust, and he only hoped Harry would be brave enough to walk upon them.

A/N- Hm, so I updated this story, the one that is taking me literally years to complete. I just keep coming back to it; kind of addicting, actually. Now, I know Harry did not react the way someone would when he found out all of this information, but remember, this Harry is almost totally adrift from the world he lives in; he trusts no one, and he definitely does not trust Snape. The next chapter will be more on how he feels about it, and how he can confirm it's authenticity. As for when said chapter will appear…well hopefully it doesn't take a year to emerge. If you have any questions or comments, I love reviews, so drop me a line! ;)

Thank you to all the people who have stood by this story as it slowly appears, this chapter is for you!


End file.
